Page 41 of Sinful Promises

“Go away.”

“Open the door, Daisy.”

“No! Fuck off, Roman.”

“I’m sorry. Daisy. Please let me in.” He thumped on the door. “Please. I’m sorry.”

I had no intention of letting him in. I never wanted to see that asshole again.

He kept banging, and I sat up in bed. Furious at my tears, I flicked them away and clenched my jaw.

“Please, Daisy, open up.”

“Go away.”

“I’m sorry. Let me in so I can explain.”

“I don’t ever want to speak to you again.”

“Come on. You don’t mean that.”

Twisting my fingers into knots, my stupid brain replayed what he’d said last night over and over. He’d said I love you. Twice. Yet he hadn’t meant it. Who did that?

I knew who did it.

A sick fucking bastard who could have whoever he wanted. He’d been toying with me, playing me along, and I’d fallen for him. Fallen fucking hard. Like a stupid fucking teenager.

Well, that’s it for me. I AM DONE.

“Please.” His voice was whiney. “Please, Daisy, let me in.”

“No. Go away or I’ll call security.”

“I’m sorry, Daisy. It was a fright. That’s all.” His pleading voice was muffled and I imagine his forehead was against the door.

I didn’t want to hear it. Couldn’t. I strode to the bathroom and slammed the door, hoping he’d hear that. I turned the shower taps to full, and with my back against the door, I slid to the floor. Hugging my knees, I burst into tears again.

It was an eternity before I could breathe. It was even longer before I forced myself off the cold tiles. I stared at my reflection. It was horrifying. My eyes were so red it was a wonder I could see, and my cheeks were blotchy like I had a hideous disease.

I did have a hideous disease. It was called Roman.

Snapping my eyes away, I stripped off and hopped into the shower. The hot cascade did little to settle my rage. I was angry at myself. How could I have let this happen? I knew he was wrong for me . . . that we were wrong for each other.

I’d known it would never work. And yet I’d still done it.

I’d even said I love you for fuck’s sake. Only good news was that he was probably so fucking drunk he wouldn’t remember it.

Stupid. Stupid.

Banging my fist on the wall, I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw hurt.

By the time I crawled from the shower, I was exhausted. But more than anything, I was angry. Angry at Roman, but more so angry at myself.

As much as I would’ve preferred to hide in my room for the rest of the year, I had a job to do. People needed me.

Forcing myself to keep moving, I dressed and shoved everything into my suitcase. Grabbing my bag and fearing Roman would still be outside, I clamped my teeth and yanked open my door.

He wasn’t there and I just about crumbled with relief. But every step after that was just as stressful as I prepared to give him a death stare around every corner. I made it out of the hotel, but as I forced my feet to take me to the bus, acid burned in my stomach like a volcano.

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